


Good Servant, Bad Master

by theskywasblue



Category: Saiyuki Gaiden
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, M/M, Psychology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-09
Updated: 2010-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-10 11:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes a man craves freedom, other times a man craves chains</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Servant, Bad Master

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a_mael](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=a_mael).



> Originally written for the [7thnight_smut](http://community.livejournal.com/7thnight_smut/) giftfic exchange 2008.

"You weren't born to be a slave," Enro walked a slow circle around him, fingers trailing over Aysen's tensed shoulders, along the arms stretched high above his head, "would you like to know how I can tell?"

Truthfully, Aysen didn't care. He was more concerned with keeping his toes on the cold packed-dirt floor, giving himself just enough leverage against the chains to keep from hanging by his shoulders. Every so often Enro would give him a soft push, unbalancing him, causing his own weight to push the air out of his lungs. Still, he had been flippant in far worse situations, in the face of men far scarier than Enro.

"Enlighten me."

"Eye contact." Enro's fingers were surprisingly cool where they tapped against Aysen's sweat-damp cheek, despite the dungeon's rank heat. "Even the most defiant born-slave never dares to make eye contact the way that you do. The will has been entirely bred out of them. Which is a shame; you can tell so much about a man by his eyes."

Aysen's shoulders were starting to ache; he could feel the pull of the abused muscles all the way down to the small of his back. He was starting to wish the bastard would just get on with it. Punishment he could handle, the waiting was the painful part.

"By the scars, I would guess ... prisoner of war; and not some foot soldier either. You're used to being looked up to, not down on. A General, perhaps?"

Aysen wanted to shrug, but his position wouldn't exactly allow that. Instead he stared passively into Enro's eyes. They were vicious green, with little flecks of burnt amber.

"I'm boring you aren't I? Perhaps it's time to get down to business."

Aysen almost said, '_about fucking time_' - but bit his tongue at the last instant. He didn't want to push too far. He very much intended to be able to walk out under his own power when it was all over. As Enro stepped behind him, Aysen tried very hard to concentrate only on the sound of his own breathing, to not think about what was going on beyond his line of sight. He knew from experience that in his imagination, the anticipation of the moment would make it a million times worse.

Still, he jumped when Enro's fingers brushed over his shoulders.

"You've been lashed before." There was distinct amusement in his low voice. "Do you make a habit of insubordination then, or are you just a slow learner?"

Aysen licked his lips, swallowed thickly. His heart felt like it was getting ready to climb out of his chest and he was so, so thirsty. "A little of both."

The first strike was nothing. Aysen felt the impact only. It wasn't until the second that he felt the sharp bite of pain as his body caught up with what was happening. The key was to ride it through the fourth hit, and then everything sort of melted into heat and shocks of an indefinable sensation shooting up through his back to the base of his skull. He didn't even realize Enro had stopped until he could take a full, deep breath again.

"You took that terribly well." Aysen almost wished he could open his eyes right then, because he wasn't sure if Enro was disappointed or proud by the sound of his voice. "I think I should tell that master of yours that you're far too much for him to handle. Maybe he'll give you to me instead."

Aysen managed to laugh, his voice rough from the scream that had been trapped in his throat. "Trust me, I'm too much for most."

"Oh, I don't doubt. It takes a special talent to manage a rebellious spirit."

Something touched the raw wounds on Aysen's back and he hissed from the sting, muscles pulling taught as he tried to move away; at the same time Enro's hand settled on his shoulder, rubbing the corded muscles almost tenderly. It was a bizarre sensation to combine the pain with the gentle relief and it made gooseflesh prickle all over his body.

"Truly," Enro's voice was almost directly in his ear and Aysen gasped despite himself at the warmth of his breath, "there is nothing wrong with pride. However..." A cool hand slid over Aysen's hip, across his stomach, resting very briefly - almost a caress - then raked quickly back across, nails scratching sharply, drawing a whimper from Aysen's throat. "All things in moderation."

Enro stepped back around and brought his hand up, giving Aysen's cheek an affectionate pat as one might a favourite nephew before turning away.

"Well then," Enro all but hummed, "I suppose I'll send you back."

* * *

His back ached and the raw wounds stung, even rubbed with soothing oil and bandaged. Aysen knew he would feel it for days. Lying on his side, the sensation wasn't so terrible, tempered by the cool of the stone floor through his paper-thin straw matt, but every time he drifted off and rolled over, the awful aching would wake him.

This he decided, much more than the lashing itself, was designed to break his spirit, to deprive him of sleep and leave him languishing in pain. It would take a lot more than a sleepless night and a sore back, of course. He had been in situations far worse.

Slavery was a lot like being besieged. Hunger, sleeplessness, perpetual discomfort, very little privacy, and fools giving orders from their safe, plush rooms well behind the walls, having no idea what it was like down below. He had lived through 11 years of siege before the city fell, and he could live through lashings, sleeping on the dirt-coated workhouse floor, breathing in smoke and bathing in oil and not be broken by it.

He would certainly not be broken by a man like Enro.

Aysen shifted, a soft spike of pain running through his body, making him grunt and shiver. He pressed a hand to his stomach, feeling the raised wheals that Enro's nails had left behind on his skin, and unbidden images and sensations rose to the front of his mind; Enro's hand warm against his shoulder, rubbing softly even as the fingers of his other hand - and Aysen was sure it had been his fingers, now that he was thinking more clearly - probed the wounds on his back, mixing pleasure with pain; breath warm on his neck even as sharp nails bit into his skin.

Aysen choked back a groan that had nothing to do with pain at all.

Nearby, one of his fellow slaves coughed, but Aysen hardly heard it. His focus was solely on the heat pooling in his groin, the familiar swell of desire. He rubbed a palm over the front of his coarse hip-wrap and found himself trying to remember the scent of Enro's skin. No such memory existed, so he concocted one. Cool, probably, sharp and metallic, like the blade of a knife. Aysen loosened the folds of fabric around his waist and slipped his hand beneath, shuddering at the sensation of flesh on flesh, tugging lightly on his length, turning his shoulders so that he could feel the bite and tug of his newly-formed scabs. He forced the palm of his free hand into his mouth to smother the sounds of his pleasure as he stroked himself to completion.

Afterwards he lay very still, feeling the hot, sticky fluid between his fingers and hunting for his sense of self-loathing. All he found was a bizarre sensation of relief, and an ache for more that matched the one in his shoulders.

* * *

Aysen leaned forward, testing the length of chain that held his arms against the wall. There was no give in them at all. But at least he was able to stand properly this time.

He was trying very, very hard not to think about what he had done to end up there again. Attacking the foreman in plain view of all the workhouse guards had been worse than stupid. It had been deliberate. He had _wanted_ to be taken away again.

And it certainly wasn't for the ambiance.

"Back so soon?" Enro's shadow fell over him, entirely backlit by the dungeon's single source of light in the ceiling of the main chamber, and Aysen had to force himself not to shiver. Enro would have probably taken it as fear, and that wasn't what it was at all.

"I knew a simple lashing wouldn't be enough for you," Enro sighed, like a teacher faced with a particularly unruly student.

"Then why didn't you do something about it?"

Enro laughed. Aysen wanted desperately to see the look on his face, the cocky self-assurance, sure that it would put him off, force him back into a rational frame of mind. He twisted his head, blowing sand-coloured hair out of his eyes and struggled to get a better look as Enro drew closer.

"Oh don't worry; I fully intend to remedy that."

It hit him then, that first cold thrill that he'd been looking for. Aysen arched his back minutely against the damp stone, using its chill to steady the race of his heart and calm his blood before it could collect low in his body. Enro tipped his head back so that the light cut across half his face, and smiled like he knew, just _knew_.

"There was a time, you know, when slaves in this kingdom had to wear chains - not as you wear now - but directly attached to the body." Enro slid his thumb up Aysen's ribcage, pressing lightly against bones that had become much more sharply defined in the months of Aysen's imprisonment, stopping just below one nipple. "Ones that could be used to not only identify a slave, but rein them in if need be."

Aysen was shaking. He wanted desperately not to shake, but he was. Enro could probably feel it right through his fingers and all the way up his arm.

"Would you like to be marked like that Aysen?" Enro's thumb slipped over his nipple and Aysen clenched his jaw so tightly it hurt, just to keep from making a sound. "I think it would suit you. It would remind you of your place."

Righteous anger, for a moment, drowned out Aysen's dark anticipation. "What the hell would you know about my place?"

"I know you think you're above all this," Enro's thumb continued its ascent, sliding along the column of Aysen's throat, tilting his head back against the stone, "but no man is above slavery Aysen. I had a king here once, in the exact same position you are in now. So very proud, that one. But now you wouldn't know him from any other slave if you passed him on the street."

"I bet you're pretty fucking proud of that," Aysen growled, trying to ignore the sensation of Enro's skin against his own, "bet it makes you feel powerful to know you broke someone's spirit - sick fuck."

Enro patted his cheek and sighed. "There's no need to get so upset over this - and no, it doesn't particularly make me proud. I only wanted to make it clear to you that no man is above the position where you are now. Even I might end up there, one day." He leaned in, putting the whole length of his body along Aysen's and breathing along his neck, "Would you like that?"

Aysen shuddered, eyes closing, cock twitching to life. Enro must have felt it, because he laughed, low and soft.

"I think you would. But not for revenge." He stepped back, turned away and Aysen sucked in air, fast and deep, desperate to keep his body under control. He was sure he could hear Enro laughing under his breath. "Now the trouble is ... how am I to make you behave? Certainly a lashing did little to quell your spirit for rebellion. This puts me in somewhat of an awkward position, you understand, as I've been instructed not to cause you permanent harm."

When he turned back around there was something in his hand that Aysen couldn't make out at first. Enro kept it half hidden, clenched in one palm, screened behind another, the rest wrapped in shadow.

"Are you afraid?"

The sound of Enro's voice startled Aysen, if only because it sounded clear over the roar of his own heart. "Believe me, this isn't fear on my face."

Something smooth and cool ran over Aysen's thigh, trailing up over the wrap around his hips and up his side. _Leather_, Aysen thought in the tiny instant before the sap struck him just beneath the armpit, making him cry out. Enro worked down his side, all the way to where the filthy cloth was wound around his hips, each blow leaving a horseshoe-shaped mark the size of a man's palm that began red but would no doubt leave dozens of matching bruises.

Aysen wanted to curse and snarl, to spit venom at the man who thought he could break him with petty philosophies and bruises under his skin. But each strike, each slap of leather on skin, sent a roaring sensation all through his body, intensity he had never experienced; like mixing the raw adrenaline of battle - that half terror, half anticipation - with the dizzying relief of orgasm.

Then Enro brought the sap against his stomach, making the muscles tense and his cock jump and _fuck_ \- Aysen moaned. He couldn't hold the sound at bay. Enro went dangerously still, like a cat that had spotted a mouse, but when Aysen tired to mimic that stillness it was impossible; his chest heaved with each shuddering intake of breath. The sap dragged over his stomach, slow and almost tickling, and Aysen shuddered uncontrollably.

"Well now, I didn't expect _that_."

His tone of voice told Aysen it was _exactly_ what he had been expecting. If he'd had a hand free, Aysen would have wiped the smug grin off his face.

"Just finish it," he panted, shaking the sweat from his eyes with a sharp twist of his head. "Just finish it and let me go."

Enro's smile - even though he could hardly see it - was like ice down Aysen's spine, "Oh, I will finish, don't worry."

Enro brought the sap up under Aysen's chin, forcing his head back against the stone again, his other hand tugging free the wrap around Aysen's hips, loosing the awful shame of his arousal. Relief mingled with the raw terror of imagining what pain the man could inflict on him now, laid out bare and helpless. He jerked his hands against the chains, longing to shield himself from harm as Enro's free hand slid - almost a caress, but far, far too threatening for comfort - down over his chest and stomach, before hefting his balls as if testing their weight, drawing a low whine of need from Aysen's throat.

"My ..." Enro's voice was a low purr, rolling over Aysen's skin and through his bones, "Look at you ..."

"Get ..." Aysen swallowed twice, thickly; sure he would choke on his own tongue. He felt a fat bead of milky fluid escape his tip and Enro watched it fall to the floor. "Get your ... hands ..."

"Off?" Enro drew the word out, let it roll off the end of his tongue like fresh honey and he ran his finger along the underside of Aysen's aching cock, swiping over the tip and gathering a drop of come, holding it up for inspection. When Aysen reflexively licked his lips at the sight, Enro smeared it along his lower lip, smirking, "Very well. I won't put my hands on you; I know that isn't what you like anyway."

"You cocky son of a ..." What would have been a string of curses dissolved into a breathless moan as Enro dropped to his knees and took all of Aysen's aching arousal into his mouth, sucking so hard and deep that Aysen would have come right then if not for the fingers wrapped tightly around his base. With each convulsive swallow, Aysen felt the muscles at the back of Enro's throat tighten around his shaft, tongue working against the throbbing vein on the underside in steady ripples until Aysen tossed his head back against the stone wall so hard he was sure he heard his skull crack and he saw stars behind his eyelids. Still he couldn't come; pleasure so intense that it hurt shot like lightning up his spine and there was no way for him to stay silent.

Suddenly Enro drew away, leaving him aching and spit-slick, shivering at the touch of the air and still writhing against the cold stone, breath escaping his throat in short sobs. He was sure he heard his name being called, but couldn't gather himself enough to respond until a hand grabbed his chin and jerked roughly.

"Look at me."

Aysen forced his eyes open. Enro was holding up two fingers, wrapped around something small and silver, glinting in the faint light.

"I'm going to unlock your chains now - and you're going to get on your hands and knees, do you understand?"

Aysen nodded once, sharp and fast. He was down on the floor before he even realized the chains had come loose, breathing so fast and hard that his throat felt raw. Enro's hand smoothed over his back, over the half-healed wounds, petting him like a dog, and he didn't care. He arched his back into the touch, desperate for something, anything. His cock felt like it was going to explode. Then a hand came down on his ass, stinging-hard. He jerked forward roughly and his cock jumped, spilling pre-come, but the ache of need only got worse  
.  
"Please..." That couldn't be his voice, surely. He never begged, _ever_. And certainly not for this. "_Please_ ..."

Another smack; he dug his fingers into the dirt floor and moaned.

"'Please' what?"

"Please..." he tossed his head, licked his lips, tasting sweat, the metallic tang of the workhouse air soaked permanently into his skin and his own come, "Please fuck me."

Enro knelt at his side, licked along the rim of his ear, murmuring, "Do you promise to behave?"

"Yes, _god_ yes!"

It hurt at first, a burning ache as he was spread tight around Enro's cock, prepared only with spit if at all; but it promised so much pleasure that Aysen couldn't keep himself from rocking back against it, even as hands on his back - scratching, opening up scabs - tried to stop him. All he could do was rock and moan and sob until the rough dirt floor made his knees raw and the sweat ran burning into his eyes and he came with his heart roaring in his ears so loud he was sure the world had ended.

For a long time, he was only aware of the immense relief, the dizzying dregs of pleasure and the shaking in his muscles; but the world gradually widened, letting in the satisfying pain in his knees and arms, the sting in his back, slick with what was probably equal parts blood and sweat, and Enro's fingers carding through his hair, almost gently.

"There now," Enro's voice was soft, almost a whisper, "isn't that _much better_? I knew you could behave if you _really_ wanted to."

* * *

They were talking about him, for the most part in hushed, reverent whispers: _Aysen the rebel; Aysen the brave; Aysen who would no be broken_. He heard them, although he tried not to; if only because it was hard as hell not to laugh in their faces when he did.

It wouldn't hurt, of course, to have that kind of reputation. It would serve him well when he finally decided he'd had enough; he'd have plenty of others willing to rebel with him, dozens, if not hundreds of men and women willing to take up arms and fight for their freedom.

But that wouldn't be today, as he tipped the work bench over, tossing hundreds bolts and pegs and sheets of metal - the makings of a siege engine - across the workshop floor; and it wouldn't be tomorrow, because he probably wouldn't be able to walk; but one day he _would_ be free.

But for now, as the guards dragged him down to the dungeon and laid him out at Enro's feet; he would enjoy being chained.

-End-


End file.
